One Step Forward, No More Back
by musicartdclife7
Summary: Daryl Dixon doesn't like strangers. He definitely doesn't like people in his space. So when Carol epitomizes all of these things, why won't he push her away? This is a completely AU Caryl (and possible Meth) tale. Rated M for language and future smut. No zombies.
1. Prologue - Pilot

**Artist's Note: This is my first try at a fic… Well, ever. I figured that I would take it for a spin. Please be patient, tell me what you think, and I really do love constructive criticism. (I couldn't help giving this man a haircut. I joke that this is his one flaw and all I would like to do is cut it. It is really not as bad in person - trust me, his hair is the last thing you notice - , but I couldn't resist opening this way.) Hope you all enjoy taking this journey with me!**

**A special thank you to my dearest Erica, who is always my first and most important editor in all matters of life and literature, and the very talented Emerald Kitten, for inadvertently planting the seed and getting this started to begin with.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to any adaptation of The Walking Dead, though I do own all plotlines and possible original characters.**

_Snip, snip._

The sound swam through his ears as he watched his brown locks fall to the floor, the girl's hands slightly caressing his neck as she pulled another strip of hair between her fingers. He could feel his face getting warmer, starting at the base of his neck and slowly rising to rest in his cheeks. He was glad she stood behind him and couldn't see the obvious discomfort plaguing his features.

His leg jiggled frantically under the cape she had wrapped around his shoulders, his boot clicking lightly on the metal bar under his heels. He didn't like to be touched, but his hair had gotten unmanageable, and it didn't help that his brother had gotten into the habit of calling him a pansy-ass pussy, and the constant goading was wearing on his nerves. That was the only reason he was even sitting in that chair to begin with.

Though, in retrospect, he guessed he couldn't complain. The girl was pleasant enough, and if she knew of his heady reputation, she didn't let it deter her from the task at hand. She hadn't shooed him away at the mention of his name. His lip pulled into an uncomfortable sneer at the easiness in her demeanor. He knew it wouldn't take long for her to realize her mistake. His thoughts drifted to his entrance, and he found himself immediately regretting his decision to stick around.

* * *

_He walked into the barber shop, taking a glance around for Dale. There were no clients waiting, not unusual for a Tuesday afternoon. That's why he liked this place. No unnecessary conversation or delays. In and out, no hassles. There was a girl sitting in one of the chairs, her frame facing away from him as she read a magazine. She was humming softly, her legs crossed and one of her feet ticking away slightly to the beat of the melody. When she heard the bell above the door she lowered the magazine and turned, meeting Daryl with the widest blue eyes he had ever seen. Her short brown hair was cropped into a style that reminded him of a fairy and accented her soft features. He was certain that he hadn't seen her before, unusual for the small town in which everyone knew everyone else. _

_She smiled at him. "Can I help you?" Her voice matched her face and reminded him of the soft whisper of wind chimes._

_He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his unruly hair, shifting uncomfortably. His voice was gruff as he mumbled his short response. "Dale here?"_

_She stood, setting the magazine on the table next to her and approaching him. She was taller than he originally thought, though still petite enough not to detract from her fairy-like features. He took a small, unintentional step back as she approached. "No, Dale's on vacation this week. I offered to come in to help him out. I'm Carol." She held out her hand and he peered at it for a second before taking it and giving it a small shake, his large hand engulfing her tiny one. He retracted it quickly, shifting again from one leg to the other. She smiled, slight dimples forming in her cheeks. "If you were looking for a cut, I can help you out, Mr..."_

"_Just Daryl. That's alright. I can wait 'til Dale gets back."_

_Her smile faltered a little, but she quickly recovered. "Now Daryl, don't insult me. I'm not exactly busy, and you could certainly use it. It will only take me a moment. Just a trim?" She didn't allow him time to argue as she pulled a cape from the pile folded on the shelf against the wall and made her way to the sink. He looked after her, battling himself on whether to stay or bolt. She stood by the sink and looked at him expectantly._

_He sighed, clenching and unclenching his fists before making his way over to her. Wouldn't want to hurt her feelings. Not to mention if he returned to the shop with his hair in the state it was currently, he and Merle would inevitably come to blows. She grinned as he approached the sink, motioning him into the chair and adjusting the water temperature. It was warm as it pulsed against his scalp, her hand running it through his locks, saturating the ends. As quickly as it started, the stream was gone and she was toweling his hair, her bracelets tinkling together as she worked. It was almost relaxing, and he found himself getting lost in her swift and delicate movements._

* * *

He was pulled sharply from his thoughts by her soft voice. "So, Daryl, have you lived here a long time?" Her movements didn't falter as she waited patiently for his answer.

"Been here my whole life. Ain't seen you around before." His gravelly baritone was still low as his sentence hung in the air. He wasn't prone to small talk, let alone with someone he didn't know.

She shifted the chair slightly to work on the right side of his head, her fingers still quickly performing their task. "I just moved here, actually. I came in from Atlanta. Dale was a good friend of my father's, said I could take care of the shop while he was away. Thought it would be a nice change of scenery."

Daryl didn't respond, letting her answer circulate through his thoughts. That explained why she hadn't faltered at his entrance; she didn't know of his reputation yet. Well, not _his_ reputation, per se, but his brother's and father's. In a town so small, guilt by association wasn't uncommon. The Dixons weren't exactly popular among the respectable citizens of Blue Ridge, Georgia. That was mainly due to his brother's "don't give a fuck" attitude, not to mention his habit of frequently getting arrested for any number of misdemeanors. He couldn't think of many people that hadn't gotten into a tussle with Merle at one point or another. All of this paled in comparison to his father's reputation, however.

Will Dixon built his reputation quickly and efficiently as an alcoholic and addict. He was an abusive son of a bitch, and both Merle and Daryl had their fair share of scars delivered at the hands of the man. Their mother had been beaten to within an inch of her life on several occasions before she died. Daryl had always found it ironic that the cigarette that had burned their house down had been what had taken their mother. He always expected to come home to find her battered and lifeless on the floor. That was a pretty harsh reality for any seven-year-old to wrap his head around. His only saving grace was that she had drunk herself unconscious before the house went up in flames. He supposed that it was better than the alternative.

Will had died almost a decade ago from an overdose, a toxic concoction of alcohol and meth riddling his system. Daryl had been in high school, and Merle had been away in the military, though he was immediately discharged and returned home as Daryl's legal guardian. They hadn't bothered with a funeral; no one would have showed up for the hateful man. They simply cremated him and moved on with their lives. Neither brother mourned the loss of their father. If anything, the man's death had been a form of absolution for their scarred bodies.

"So, Daryl… What do you do?" The question jarred him back to the present and he attempted to relax the scowl that had accompanied the memories and darkened his features. Carol was now working on the opposite side of his head, her fingers nimble as she neared the end of her task.

Daryl cleared his throat again, "My brother and I work in a garage on the other end of town. I'm under the hood, he works the bikes."

"Really? My dad was a grease monkey. I spent most of my youth sitting on the hood of a car, watching him tinker away." She came around to the front and began snipping away at the top of his head, working toward the bangs that had grown into his eyes. Her blue eyes met his and she grinned. "Don't tell anyone, but I kind of loved it. Learned a lot, too." The way she lowered her voice into a whisper like she was confiding to him some big secret made the corner of his lip quirk ever so slightly.

This admission surprised Daryl. He hadn't pinned her for someone that he had anything in common with, let alone a love for cars. Even when the rest of the world confused the hell out of him, he could always count on the machines. They were easy. Simple. No wrong answers, only a simple solution that he could always depend on to make everything function again.

Carol set down the scissors and comb and smiled, placing her hands on her hips and looking at him with a contemplative eye. "Well, Daryl, I guess it'll do. At least I can see your face now." She winked and he felt the heat rising from his chest again. He averted his gaze and rose from the chair, glancing briefly in the mirror as he stood. It looked a lot better, normal.

"Thanks. How much do I owe you?" He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, still avoiding her gaze. He wanted to get out of there. Her easy nature was making him more uncomfortable than normal.

"I think Dale charges seven for the cut. Seven it is." Daryl pulled out a ten and handed it to her.

"Keep the change." He turned quickly to leave and Carol grinned at his retreating figure.

"Thanks for coming in, Daryl." He turned before he exited, meeting her gaze briefly before giving a small nod. She smiled at him. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you around." He hesitated only a moment before he withdrew his gaze and walked out to the parking lot, the bell above the door tinkling even after he was gone from her view. She stood with her arms crossed, thinking about his uneasy and shy behavior. A small laugh escaped from her lips and she shook her head, silently chastising herself for teasing the shy but handsome redneck. This was definitely a nice change from Atlanta.


	2. Merle

**Artist's Note: Thank you all so, so much for your kind reviews. I really appreciate it! As things progress I will be sure to respond personally to reviews. As for the last batch, you all flatter me. It means a lot to see your kind words. I only hope that I can do this justice. As always, criticism or advice is completely welcome.**

**I apologize so much for taking so long to update. I'm a perfectionist at heart, so if there's even one detail that I think doesn't flow quite right, I will sit here and adjust until it does. I'm hoping that things will come to me easier and with more fluidity the more that I write. **

**As always, a special thank you to Erica, who edits every word of this and tells me what works and what doesn't. Without her, there would be no story. I hit a giant road block this round that had me staring angrily at my screen for several hours, and she helped me work it out. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to any adaptation of The Walking Dead, though I do own all plotlines and possible original characters.**

Carol sighed as she absentmindedly clicked the yellow highlighter against the kitchen table. The classified section stared back at her, taunting and barren. There was nothing listed, but despite the apparent lack of need for help, she had still gone to almost every local business in the square. She had been met with results that mirrored the open newspaper before her.

She had been living in Blue Ridge for almost a month, and hadn't found any opportunities aside from the afternoons spent in Dale's barber shop. As much as she enjoyed the company of the old man and meeting some of the locals, the part time shifts were not paying the bills, and the money she had brought with her from Atlanta was going to run out eventually. She wasn't going to allow herself to fall on her face. She had come too far to sit around feeling sorry for herself. That time had passed.

She leaned back in the chair and ran her hands across her face. It was getting late, and the diner would be closing soon. She wanted to bring Dale dinner at the barber shop tonight so that he had something to bring home with him after he closed up for the evening. Truth be told, she was worried the man was working too hard. He was getting older, and didn't appear to be ready to retire anytime soon.

She had always been fond of Dale. He had made his presence known early on in her life. He had been her father's best friend, the best man at her parents' wedding. Her father had been the best man at Dale's. The two men had grown up together, and she saw the man as family, plain and simple. When her mother died when she was eight, Dale had been the person to snap her father out of the deep depression he had succumbed to, as her father would do for him when his own wife died a few years later. When Carol's father died when she was eighteen, it had been Dale that had helped her with all of the arrangements for the funeral. He had stayed with her in Atlanta until she graduated high school, helped her off to college. He had walked her down the aisle at her wedding.

Carol scoffed at the memory and stood. What a good decision that had proved to be. She shook her head and pushed in her chair, collecting the newspaper and folding it neatly before placing it in the recycling. The last thing she wanted to do was take that trip down memory lane. That was the black hole that marred her history for the last four years, and if she got too close to it, she would be sucked in all over again. She wouldn't let that happen.

* * *

The diner was slow, as it generally was on a Monday night before closing. She took a seat at the counter and ordered the food to go, having a cup of coffee while she waited. There was only one other patron in the small restaurant, sitting four seats down from where she stirred cream into her coffee. His blue eyes were watching the backside of the waitress that was wiping off the table that sat to their right. Carol cocked an eyebrow and shook her head. Men.

The man noticed Carol fully for the first time and met her gaze. His eyes raked slowly over her figure, and he didn't bother hiding the fact that he was openly objectifying her. "Well hello there, Sugar. Haven't seen you around here before." His voice was raspy and much softer than she anticipated, but it still held a commanding quality that didn't diminish from his offensive behavior. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, turning away slightly. He responded with a toothy grin and stood, setting money down on the counter. He wasn't as tall as she would have originally thought, though his build and the way he carried himself made him seem taller, if not domineering. He was muscular and broad, someone that was clearly used to working with his hands. She pinned him as mid-thirties or so. He would have been handsome had he not behaved like a pig.

He stopped briefly on his way by, shooting her another grin. "See you around, Sugar." He winked and stole another glance at the waitress before leaving, the bell above the door left jingling loudly as he exited.

Carol scrunched her nose and turned toward the waitress. The girl couldn't have been more than twenty or so, and that was being generous. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail and her big doe eyes looked at Carol apologetically. Her name tag indicated that her name was Beth. "I'm sorry about him. Unfortunately there's not a lot to be done about it. That's Merle for you."

Carol smiled at the girl, "It's not your fault. He makes a choice to act like that. Shame, too. He'd be kind of cute if he wasn't a total jackass."

Beth let out a sharp laugh before quickly covering her mouth, clearly not expecting to hear such a blunt statement from a total stranger. She lowered her voice and looked across the counter. "I'd never let my daddy hear me say it, but I wouldn't call you wrong. It's just a shame that he's so troublesome. He and his brother have built a reputation for themselves. I guess he just feels like he needs to do it justice."

"And what reputation is that? The astounding ability to be vulgar?"

Beth busied herself wiping down the counter before she replied carefully. "The Dixon brothers are known for causing trouble. Merle's always being arrested for something, whether it's being drunk in public or starting a fight. Rumor is that he was heavy into drugs there for awhile. As for Daryl… Well, he's just awful quiet, and not very friendly. They're nothing compared to what their daddy was, but we all try to just leave them be."

Carol thought a moment, wondering why Daryl sounded so familiar. It clicked suddenly and she thought back to the shy man that came into the shop her first week in town. He was definitely quiet, and most certainly shy, but he didn't seem hostile. She immediately saw the resemblance between the brothers. Both men shared the same blue eyes. While Merle's build was broad and commanding, Daryl had been leaner, though no less muscular. Both men were undeniably handsome, but while Daryl carried with him a touch of quiet mystery and a certain amount of softness, Merle was open and brash.

The bell in the kitchen dinged loudly and pulled Carol from her thoughts. After paying and wishing Beth a good evening, she made her way to the square and the barber shop.

* * *

Dale greeted Carol warmly when she entered the shop. "Carol, you weren't scheduled to come in tonight." She set the food down on the counter and his eyes lit up. "In that case, I'm awful glad you did. You spoil me, I swear." Carol grinned at the old man and sat down in the salon chair next to Dale's station. Before she could reply, a familiar rasp took control of the conversation.

"Well hey again, Sweetheart. I'm beginning to think that maybe you're tailing me. If you wanted me, all you had to do was ask, Honey." Carol scrunched her nose and turned toward the client in Dale's chair. Merle was wearing his trademark smirk, eyes full of mischief. Dale looked warily between Merle and Carol.

Carol met Merle's stare with a steely one of her own before replying. "I'm sorry, Merle. Unfortunately, words cannot express the level of 'not interested' that I am."

Merle let out a chuckle, "Well, Sugar, seems you been asking 'bout me. Don't think I ever told you my name." He gave her another shit-eating grin and Carol rolled her eyes.

"Oh no, Merle. Don't flatter yourself. Your reputation precedes you. Might want to work on your image." Carol rolled her eyes and stood, giving an apologetic smile to Dale. "I'll see you later, okay? Try not to let this ogre loose to pillage the townsfolk."

Merle's voice carried after her as the door swung shut. "That's not the only thing I'd like to pillage sweetheart!"

She rolled her eyes again and made her way to her car. Her '67 Comet sat waiting for her, the streetlight above shining off of the black muscle car. The car had been her father's; she had watched him rebuild it the summer she was eight from the ground up. The car was her pride and joy, the last piece of her father to carry with her. She had a lot of great memories in that car.

A small amount of panic ran through her body as she pressed in the clutch and brake pedal to start the car and it cranked but didn't turn over. She tried again with the same results. Carol allowed an expletive to escape her lips and set her head down on the steering wheel. A tap on her window gave her a start and she sighed as she rolled it down.

"What do you want, Merle?"

He leaned in, that cocky grin once again plastered on his face. "Well, Sugar. Looks like you need a little assistance." She was about to reply but he cut her off. "And it also looks like I'm the only one here in town that can help you with this little dilemma of yours. And a few other things if you want." He winked, which earned him another eye roll.

"Merle… If you're not going to help, then please just go away." She shot him an exasperated glare, her cheek still resting on the steering wheel. "If you can give me a push I can shift it into first and get it started."

The slight flicker of surprise that crossed his face was not lost on Carol. "Well, Sugar… Looks like you know a little bit more than I pegged you for. It's clear you know how to handle this car… Kinda makes me wonder what else you can handle." Carol groaned and turned her head so that it was once again facing the floor. Merle snickered and tapped the window with his hand. "Come on, Sweetheart. Let's get 'er rolling and take her on over to the garage. Have my brother take a look."

Merle made his way to the back of the vehicle, taking a firm grip. Carol turned the key into the 'On' position and put the car in first. She let off on the emergency brake and brake pedal, keeping the clutch in. The car moved slightly, Merle grunting as he moved the car forward. As they gained momentum, Carol let off on the clutch and pushed the gas pedal. The engine turned over and Carol moved forward, switching to second and giving a small sigh of relief.

Merle's words flowed in through her open window as she circled the parking lot. "All right, Sugar! You just take a left out of the lot and keep on till you reach the edge of town. The garage is on the left. I'll be behind you in a minute." Carol nodded and watched as Merle made his way over to a motorcycle parked in front of the barber shop. She circled the parking lot once more before exiting the parking lot and, following Merle's direction, took a left through the dark downtown area of Blue Ridge.


	3. Garage

**Artist's Note: I AM SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG. My contract ended at my job, so I've been looking for a new one, not to mention working on a very important website for a client that could possibly change my life. Then we got two new roommates and a new puppy (Fitzwilliam Castiel Legolas Dixon) and a new kitten ("Gizmo" Bellatrix Lisbeth McGonagall) and then there's GISHWHES and I've just been ridiculously sadly busy with life. Then… There's the writer's block. I really look up to all of you amazing writers. I'm so new at this, and it's just… Not flowing. I envy those of you that can bang this stuff out like nobody's business. BUT I WILL GO ON.**

**I will try my very hardest to have another chapter ready sometime within the next week or so. I'm starting a new job this week, but I should have some down time to blast out another one.**

**I didn't have anyone proof this because it is 3:20 AM and I just want to get it out to you, so I apologize for the state that it may be in. Feel free to yell at me in a comment or review or PM.**

**As always, I really love your reviews and comments! Constructive criticism always welcome! And thank you so much to everyone that reviewed; I promise to respond to this next round personally.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to any adaptation of The Walking Dead, though I do own all plotlines and possible original characters.**

Daryl's favorite moments came when he was alone at the shop, tinkering with an engine, music blasting so loud that he couldn't think. There was a sense of solace in losing himself in something so easy, so mechanical. There was nothing to consider, nothing to worry about. Just the machine and the music. It was therapy.

He was replacing the exhaust system on Hershel Greene's truck, AC/DC slamming into his ears, when he noticed headlights shining into the garage bay next to where he was working. He furrowed his brow, sliding himself out from underneath the vehicle as a black Comet came to a stop in the bay. As he stood, the door opened and the girl from the barber shop, Carol, stood from the car.

She gave a sheepish grin when she noticed him. "I'm so sorry for showing up unannounced like this, your brother said to drive it down here."

Daryl turned off the music but before he could reply he heard the familiar rumble of Merle's Triumph, followed quickly by the headlight swinging into view. His brother parked the bike and dismounted, walking over to Carol with what could only be called a saunter before slinging his arm over her shoulders. "See, Sugar, told you you couldn't miss it." Merle noticed his brother and gave him a smirk. "Hey there, baby brother. Girlie here was having a little car trouble. Told her you could give her a hand." He shot him a loaded wink and it was everything Daryl could do to keep himself from groaning.

Carol removed herself from Merle's arm and caught the younger man's attention. "I think the starter went. I couldn't get it turned over. We had to give it a push start."

Merle leaned up against the car, crossing his arms over his chest. "Girl knew exactly what she needed to do to get her started up, too. Knows her way around a car. That's kind of a turn-on, Sugar." He gave Carol a sleazy wink and Daryl could feel the embarrassment and discomfort rising in his throat. He was relieved when Carol returned the wink with an eye roll and a scoff.

"Leave her alone, Merle. She didn't come down here for you to make a damn fool of yourself." Daryl pulled the red rag out of his back pocket and wiped the grease off of his hands, walking past his brother, who was chuckling. He turned his attention to the car so he wouldn't have to look at the girl that made him so uncomfortable. "I'll be able to look at this in the morning. I have an exhaust system to finish up tonight, but if you come back tomorrow morning I should be able to tell you what's wrong. I've got a handful of appointments coming up this week but I should be able to fit you in and get it fixed up for you in the next few days."

Carol nodded and gave him a small grin. "That would be great, Daryl. I appreciate you helping me out on such short notice. I'm sorry to disrupt your schedule."

Daryl fiddled with the rag in his hands, focusing his gaze on the red fabric. "Ain't no trouble." His words drifted off, leaving the pair in an uncomfortable silence. Daryl could feel the taunting gaze of his brother burning into his back as he pushed himself off of the muscle car.

"Well, Sweetheart. Told you Daryl here could fix 'er up for you. Why don't I give you a lift on home?" He motioned to the bike. "You'll have to hold on real tight though. Wouldn't want you to fall off, would we?" There was that wink again. Daryl was pretty sure he was going to beat that wink off of his brother's face one of these days, probably sooner rather than later.

Carol didn't seem to be buying into Merle's flirting. "Merle, didn't we discuss that words could not express how uninterested I am?" She sighed and shook her head as she put her hands on her hips. "Listening is clearly not one of your talents, Merle."

The corner of Daryl's mouth quirked up, but his older brother's response quickly reversed the action. "Well, Sugar. Listening may not be one of my talents, but I think I may have a few others that you might enjoy."

Daryl didn't hide the groan this time as he stepped forward. "Merle, shut the hell up and get inside. Don't you know when to quit? Jesus Christ, can't you ever just act right?" He narrowed his gaze at the older man, wishing the girl wasn't right there so he could wipe the smug expression off of his face.

"Woah, now, baby brother. I was just trying to be helpful. No need to get your panties all bunched up. She started it."

"You started it, and I'm finishing it. Get in the house." He stared the older man down, gaze narrowed and burning holes into the eyes that matched his own.

Merle chuckled and turned toward the door that led into the house. "Alright, baby brother. I'll let her win this round. But that's only because I know you'll take good care of her." Another wink and Daryl didn't think twice as he picked up a wrench from his tool bench and chucked it after Merle. It clattered against the shutting door and fell uselessly to the ground, a soft chuckle still heard from just inside the house.

Daryl sighed and chewed on his thumbnail before turning his attention to Carol, who had a sympathetic expression on her face. "He's a real handful, huh?"

Daryl looked to the floor, both out of shame for his brother and the immediate awkwardness he felt about being left alone with this girl. He nodded at his shoes. "Sorry 'bout him. He's a jackass. Don't know how to act most of the time."

Carol let out a small, wind chime laugh. "Oh, don't you worry about me. Merle is a walk in the park when it comes to men. All talk and no bite. All for the ego. I know the type, believe me." She gave him a wide grin.

He didn't know how to respond to her. The silence resonated around them, quickly becoming awkward. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one leg to the other. "Getting late. I'll take you home." He made his way through the maze of the garage out to the wide drive where his '79 Ford truck was parked.

Carol gave her thanks with a wide grin when he opened her door for her, awkwardly waiting for her to climb into the cab before closing it firmly and walking briskly to the driver's side, never quite making contact. Carol gave him directions and they fell into a comfortable silence as he backed out of the large drive.

She loved the smell of the truck, which was surprisingly neat aside from the ashtray that was nearly overflowing with butts. The interior smelled like motor oil and the pine air freshener that was hanging from the rearview. It reminded her of her father.

Daryl was tapping absent-mindedly on the steering wheel as he drove, the cool night air coming through the widows. Carol studied his face, taking time to really look at him now that his gaze was focused on the road. Even in the dark, she could make out his sharp cheekbones and narrow nose. A small amount of facial hair was haphazardly growing around his pursed lips. The breeze fluttered through his chestnut hair, which was starting to get a little long around his ears, but she would give it another couple of weeks or so before it started to become a nuisance like before.

Her gaze unconsciously traveled to his strong shoulders, the muscles there tensed and bunched, accenting their size. Daryl Dixon may have been narrower than his brother, but there was no mistaking that he was a strong man that knew his way around hard labor. If there had been any doubt in his shoulders, his arms would settle the matter. The button up shirt had long-since had its sleeves ripped off, the edges frayed and tattered, framing the shoulder muscles where the fabric ended and was met with the sun-darkened skin of his biceps. Even though his grip on the steering wheel was relaxed, the tendons and muscles from his shoulders to his hands stood out immensely in the shadow of the moonlight. The man was gorgeous, plain and simple.

Carol scoffed at herself in the dark, ashamed of openly objectifying the shy man. He deserved better than that kind of behavior, and frankly, she expected more out of herself. She was acting like Merle, for Christ's sake. She averted her gaze out her window and found that they were nearing the end of her street, her fenced yard just coming into view.

Daryl came to a smooth stop in front of the sidewalk adjacent to the gate that entered into her yard. The house was small but pretty, flowers growing in beds all around the property. It looked like something out of a kid's book. She gave him one of her trademark smiles as she opened the door and turned to him.

"Thank you again, Daryl. I really appreciate you going through all of this trouble for me. I'm sorry again for springing it on you like that."

Daryl's gaze met hers as he squinted through the dark. "Ain't no trouble. I'll try and get her looked at in the morning. I'll come get you around ten or so?" His gaze was gone again as he focused on the steering wheel.

Carol grinned. "How about you and Merle come over around nine or so? I'll make breakfast and we can head back over together. Just as a thank you for tonight."

Daryl felt the heat rise from his chest and flood his face. He was thankful for the dark, but that did little in way of disguising the shock and surprise in his voice. He reprimanded himself as he sputtered, "Ain't nothin' to thank. We don't need anything like that."

Carol shook her head. It was becoming alarmingly clear that Daryl Dixon was going to be a tough one to crack. "Daryl, I insist. Not to mention it will be nice to finally have some company over. I don't really have anyone here except for Dale. I could use all the friends that I can get." Her voice had a hint of teasing as she added her next thought to that sentence. "Merle included."

Daryl sighed and looked at the other houses that lined the street. Everything was quaint and set up just so. No place for him, and especially not a place for Merle. It would only cause trouble for Carol down the line. The people of Blue Ridge did not like the Dixons, and only made a point of associating with them when they needed their cars or bikes fixed. Daryl let out his breath before he glanced at Carol. "Folks around here don't like us much. We're not the kind of people you want to be seen with unless you need your car fixed. People will talk."

Carol allowed a laugh to escape. "Daryl Dixon, I'd like you to listen to me and listen to me well. The day that I start caring what others think about me or the people I associate myself with will be the day hell freezes over." She swung her legs out of the truck, shutting the door behind her but leaning through the open window. "I expect to see both you and Merle here at 9 o'clock tomorrow morning. I won't take no for an answer." Before he could respond she was gone, making her way past the gat and up the stone path to her front door.

Daryl sat for a second even after she had entered the house, wondering what the hell had just happened. Through the fog of the recent events, he knew one thing for certain: Carol was not like the other women he had met before.


End file.
